Mira hid inside her shack, cautiously peering through a crack in the door at the cultists passing outside.
They were followers of the Mother Goddess, supposedly a terrifying cult that demanded even their lives once they joined.
Mira's mother had repeatedly warned her to stay far away from those frightening people.
Mira was an obedient child. She kept the door tightly shut.
But suddenly, someone among the cultists stopped and turned to look over.
It was a hooded figure, his entire body hidden in shadow. All cultists dressed like that.
He had spotted Mira's eyes secretly watching them.
Mira hurriedly lowered her head, curling up her frail little body as tightly as she could behind the door.
The cultist walked over and stopped before the door.
"Mira, is your mother's illness any better?"
Mira covered her ears and said nothing.
"Here's some food. Take it and make some porridge. Don't let her go out to work again. Let her rest for a while longer, and she'll get better. When you're sick, drink more water—and remember to boil it first."
He rambled on for quite a while. Only when no reply came from inside did he turn and leave.
After a long time, Mira cautiously lifted her head and peered through the crack in the door again.
That somewhat familiar figure was gone, leaving a slightly worn sack on the ground.
Mira hesitated, looked around, then opened the door a crack and swiftly dragged the sack inside.
She quickly shut the door, turned around, and sat on the floor with her back against it, looking down at the sack.
Inside was a small bag of mixed grains. It was light, but enough to keep her and her mother alive for a few more days.
A fit of coughing came from inside